


Body Logic

by unbroken_halo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, UST, redeemed!Draco, tattooed!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1403959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbroken_halo/pseuds/unbroken_halo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's one thing that's keeping Harry from propositioning Draco, not the least of which is the pain in his arse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Logic

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** Blithelybonny, this is most likely NOT the quick porny romp you were looking for, although Draco and Harry eventually get themselves straightened out, so I hope you enjoy the story nonetheless. Thanks to my pre-reader and beta for their assistance.

"Hit the showers and don't forget to see the masso-healer, if you need it. He's there for a reason, not to just sit on his arse and earn the team's Galleons." Captain Brevis Birch shouted then clapped his hands, dismissing the team.

Harry groaned as he climbed to his feet, his body sore and aching from the practice. He walked around the bench, heading for his locker, and his fellow teammates began to strip down right where they stood, good natured ribbing echoing off the tiled walls. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts after a Quidditch match. Except for one minor thing; Hogwarts would have never hosted co-ed locker rooms. It was good being part of a team again, though, and playing professional was exciting and challenging.

The Tutshill Tornados, his team, because no way was he putting himself in between Ron and Ginny's Quidditch rivalry, was one of the few teams that didn't segregate their players at the teams' base. The idea was thought to build a sense of comradery and a measure of trust between teammates by being open in all aspects of the gaming process from strategizing to practice and then game.

Granted there was a separated area for men's and women's showers, therapy rooms as well as changing areas, but as Memory Bagshot was the only female player on the team, they were rarely used. She made it known, in no uncertain terms, that she could-- and would-- do wandless magic, and the first berk to be anything other than polite to her in the locker room would find himself on the business end of a spell, and not anything fun, either.

Harry had learned that the hard way. Memory was a descendant of the very same Batilda Bagshot he'd encountered in Godric's Hollow, and had nearly ended up under one of her spells by accident because he'd been clumsy. Several shouts, pleas and a couple of apologies later, he'd befriended the woman, and since then, they had kept an eye out for one another.

Especially on days like today when Birch had the team running practice drills, and seeing if he had his players placed in their proper team position. No one was exempt from attempting a different position while in practice, unless they proved to be a danger to themselves or the other teammates. Oliver Wood's long ago prediction that Harry would make a fair Beater had come true. Birch had chosen Harry for his ability on a broom and had wanted him as a Seeker. One try-out later, though, and it was clear, time had had a negative effect. 

Harry had grown too tall and filled out bodily to remain as a Seeker even if he had given the current Seeker a run for his Sickles on broom speed drills. His evasive maneuvers had cemented Harry's place on the team, though, and Birch wanted him for more than his name.

Harry had a deft hand at the Chaser position as well, but Birch kept pushing Harry until he found the right place. That place had Harry up in the air, Beater's Bat in hand as he attacked the iron missiles and sent them back at the other players. And Harry hadn't looked back since. 

With a sigh, Harry shrugged off his gear, bending over to loosen his boots before pulling the sky blue robes over his head and dropping the damp clothes on the floor. He straightened and hissed, pressing a hand to his lower back as a twinge of pain shot through his body.

Another set of hands touched his, and Harry moaned then, craning his neck around to see Memory frowning at him as she prodded his back around his fingers.

"What'd you do, Potter?"

Harry grunted as she continued to mash on him. "I don't know. It just hurt worse when I stood up properly."

Memory slid her hand along his back and Harry winced as she moved her hand over his hip. "Get hit by a Bludger?"

"No, why? Is there a mark?" Harry moved away from her and turned his body, trying to see if there was a blemish.

"No…" Memory watched him twist and turn, her lips twitching as he tugged down his smalls. She arched a brow as one pale arsecheek was exposed, then she grinned outright when he dropped his pants to the floor and stood before her in just his socks and boots. "Potter…"

Harry stopped doing his twisting-turning dance and looked at Memory, adjusting his glasses on his face. "Yeah?"

Memory licked her lips as she stood beside him, hands on her hips. Her body was just barely covered in a wrap towel, the dark blue double T's connected terrycloth material at her breast and thigh. "You want to put that away first so we can have this conversation without me admiring your… equipment?"

Harry grinned and grabbed his own wrap out of his locker. "Don't tease, Memory. I just might take you up on that offer."

Memory laughed. "I doubt that, Potter. Marcus would skin the hide off your arse."

Harry fastened his toweling about his hips and gave her a wicked grin. Memory's husband, Marcus Schaffer, was one of the Aurors in Ron's squadron and they, along with Hermione, Ginny and Harry, all had dinner together as often as possible when everyone was able to schedule it. "I just might enjoy that as well. You don't know, do you?"

Memory shook her head. "Bloody tease, you are. Ginny's warned me about you."

Harry affected a shocked expression. "Consorting with the enemy now, are you?" 

Ginny played for the Holyhead Harpies under the direct supervision of Gwenog Jones, and had become a vicious rival at the pick-up games held on downtime. Molly refused to allow them to play in the field behind the Burrow any longer since Ginny had 'accidentally' knocked down Mr Weasley's hobby shed. Again.

Her mean streak had also led to them dissolving their budding relationship. That, and the fact that one too many Weasley males had made it a point to give Harry a stern talking to about the youngest Weasley. Ginny'd made it a point then to date as many different people as possible, and Harry just wasn't looking to play around like that no matter how much flirting he did.

Bending, Harry picked up his robes and sucked in a breath, his face going pale in pain, and he held on to the bench and tried to remember how to breathe.

"Idiot." Memory shot two fingers at him, and then noticed that he wasn't standing. "Harry?"

Harry swallowed as he twisted and sank down hard onto the bench. He closed his eyes and muttered, "I think you'd better go get Malfoy."

"Don't move." Memory sidestepped him, shouting Malfoy's name as she threaded her way deeper into the locker room.

"No worries of that." Harry eased back on the bench, hoping the pain would subside if he laid out flat. The coolness of the wooden bench made him flinch, which did nothing for the hot thrill of pain that continued to shoot through his body.

Spikes of varying intensity scored down his back and into his hip, and the muscle in his right thigh contracted, spasming several times in a row. Harry tensed as the pain continued to roll down his leg, his calf tightening as well into a painful cramp. He bit his lip, trying to flex his foot and ease the muscles, but to no avail.

Memory returned with Malfoy on her heels and she knelt beside Harry. "Harry?"

Harry looked up from where he clutched his thigh to find Malfoy and Memory standing over him. "Cramp."

"Easy there, Potter. I've got you." Malfoy bent on his haunches and wrapped his hands around Harry's ankle, rubbing gently on the swell of the bone before bracing Harry's leg on his thigh. "Relax."

The movement caused the cramp to resurge through his limbs, and through his teeth, Harry snarled at Malfoy. "I'm going to relax you in a moment."

Malfoy smirked as he slid his hands up Harry's calf, his fingers digging into the muscles as his thumbs ran along Harry's hamstring and quadriceps. "Can't be too bad off if you are threatening me."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to relax as Malfoy worked to ease the crap. He howled as his leg tightened up again in response to Malfoy's massaging. He opened his eyes and glared at Malfoy. "That hurts!"

"It'll continue to do so until you calm down, Potter." Malfoy looked up at him, grimacing as he moved back to Harry's foot and pushed it gently in the opposite direction, trying to force the muscles into relaxation.

Harry's head thunked back on the bench, eyes pinched close against the pain, and Memory hissed. "Don't do any more damage, you arse." She scooted closer to Harry and stood, lifting his head a bit then straddled the bench and sat, resting his head in her lap. She pressed her fingers to his temple and began to rub small circles under his damp fringe.

Harry opened one eye and looked up at her. "Well now. This might not be so bad." He grunted as Malfoy continued to work on his leg. "Sandwiched between a pair of soft--"

Memory laughed. "Don't say it!"

Her amusement took some of the worry out of her voice, and Harry tried to relax between the two massages, one soothing the other determined. Then his leg spasmed hard and he tensed again. Malfoy's fingers clamped down on his calf once more. "Buggering Glumbumbles! What are you doing, Malfoy?"

Around them several teammates had gathered to watch and Harry gave a soft swear at the looks on their faces. This wasn't good at all.

"Bloody hell, Potter! You've got something else going on besides the sodding cramp and until you fecking relax I can't do a bloody thing for you," Malfoy snapped and continued to rub along Harry's calf. "I don't want to force the muscle to give magically because it'll ground you from playing and Birch will have my arse."

"Too right I will, Malfoy," Birch barked, and stuck his head in between Malfoy and Harry, his gaze jumping back and forth between Harry's outstretched leg and Malfoy's face. "Now what are you doing to fix this situation?"

Malfoy huffed and Harry lifted his head from Memory's lap to watch. Memory pushed his head down again, but not before Malfoy looked up at him. "Close your eyes, Potter, and breathe."

Malfoy kept his eyes on Harry's face and Harry shifted to see Malfoy. "In through your nose and out through your mouth. Inhale. One… two…. three… Now, exhale." He glanced down at Harry's leg. "Come on now, you daft bugger."

Harry pulled in a short breath and blew it out, then took a deeper one, closing his eyes as he concentrated on Malfoy's breaths and slow counts. Gradually, with soft pants and Malfoy's low voice chanting to him, Harry relaxed. Memory's fingers ran over his brow, brushing back his fringe, and he sighed out one more breath when his body gave up and relaxed for Malfoy's punishing fingers.

"Oh!" Harry cried out in both relief as well as pain, because Malfoy continued to run his thumbs up in long lines on each side of his leg.

"Got it!" Malfoy nodded and looked up at Harry. His hands eased, slowing on Harry's skin and fluttering over the pulse point at Harry's ankle.

"Tell me what you had to eat today. Did you drink enough water whilst you were on the ground during practice?" 

Harry nodded and began to list the items he'd had at each meal and how many canteens of water he had consumed as Malfoy continued to work his leg. He paused in his recitation to moan and Malfoy chuckled. "Feel better?"

"Oh, loads. As I said before sandwiched between a soft woman and a sadistic healer will do anyone good--ow!"

The smack from Memory's hand echoed in the locker room and Birch shook his head. He flicked his hands at the players sending them away from the huddle around Harry. "Let me know if I'm going to be short a Beater, Malfoy. Potter, you stink. Get your arse to the shower as soon as Malfoy's done."

"He should be fine, probably just a reaction to practice. More stretches before and after should prevent another cramp from happening."

Malfoy tapped Harry's calf with his fingertips one last time and brushed his hands together. "I'm finished. Can you stand, Potter?"

Birch nodded and grunted pointed at Harry then the showers. "Relax for the night and we'll try you at practice again day after tomorrow."

Memory shoved Harry into a sitting position, and he turned and glared at her. She arched a brow and smiled sweetly at him. "Birch is right; you stink."

"Well, I like that. Knock a man while he's down."

Memory rolled her eyes then stood from the bench. "Get up, Potty. You've already made me late to meet Marcus, and you can explain to him just exactly why." She offered him her hand.

Harry fluttered his eyelashes at her. "I'd be delighted to tell your big bad Auror just how close you held on to me-- ow! Would you stop that?" He rubbed the back of his head after she'd cuffed him again.

Malfoy sighed and shook his head. "I take it that I am no longer needed. Drink more water, Potter, and come see me, after you bathe, for an analgesic. It will help any residual discomfort from the cramp. Maybe take a turn in the charmed bubble pool."

Harry nodded as Memory heaved him off the bench. He carefully placed his foot on the floor and gently added weight to it, nodding again when he was able to stand completely unaided with only a little twinge. "I might need you to work on my back, too."

Malfoy nodded and dug into his robes, the same sky blue/dark blue logo as the team's only fitted more closely to his body. He made a notation on a bit of parchment then held it out to Harry. "I can see you tomorrow morning, half seven at my office."

Harry curled his lip but nodded. "I'll be there." He stepped off cautiously, then moved a bit faster but with an awkward gait toward the shower room, running a hand up and down his thigh. He could feel Malfoy watching him and shuddered at the sensation after he passed from view.

~*~

Draco eyed the scans of Potter's back, hip and leg then turned to look at the man himself. Potter sat on the table, slightly hunched over as he returned Draco's stare.

"Well?"

"First, sit up correctly. That might be part of the problem; slouching compresses your spine and can, in turn, pinch the nerves that affect the areas in which you are experiencing discomfort."

Potter frowned. "I wouldn't call the sensation discomfort, but more unnerving."

Draco arched a brow, and Potter grinned at him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"The eyebrow thing. It says, 'I know you are an idiot, but I am still questioning your intelligence.'"

Draco licked his lips, trying not to laugh. "It's a matter of control, with practice anyone can do so. However, my eyebrow muscles aren't the reason you are here this morning. Please describe the 'unnerving' sensation in more depth."

Potter looked away and ran a hand over his leg. "I didn't notice it until I returned to my flat last night. I was sitting on the sofa and my foot felt odd."

Draco hummed and turned back to the images of Potter's body, eyes and fingers searching along the shot of his spine. "Go on."

"I thought it might have, you know, 'fallen asleep', only I wasn't sitting on it. I had my foot propped up on the arm of the sofa. When I placed it on the floor, it was numb then the tingling, crawling feeling began and moved up my leg. Not quite pins and needles but," he wriggled his fingers and sighed. "Just unnerving to experience. It wasn't too painful, but it wasn't numb, either. I've felt worse pain."

"Were you reclining?"

"What?"

"Were you lying on your back or reclined on the sofa?" Draco turned around and glanced at Potter as he fidgeted. He shifted his bottom as if trying to find a more comfortable place on the padded exam table. "Stand up."

Potter started then slid off the table, wincing as he landed on his feet. "Oh, and not really. I just had my ankle resting up on the arm and the other foot was on the floor. Why?"

"I am trying to determine if laying down compounded the problem." Draco moved around Potter, holding up one hand then placing it on his back, rubbing along his waist and down Potter's side and hip. "Are you experiencing the same sensation now?" He slid his hands down the length of Potter's legs, right then left, squeezing his thighs, moving his knee then stroking along his calf.

"No, but that feels amazing. You have magic hands."

"Last time I checked, I was a wizard."

Potter snorted. "I meant your hands are warm and sturdy. I've never had anyone touch me like this before. Well… someone I wasn't intimate with, I mean."

"You don't see another healer or a medi-wizard? Never had a massage?"

"No. I'd rather something rot off than visit St. Mungo's. I only go if I absolutely have to, and the ones I have seen were all female."

Draco sighed as Potter wriggled in his hands when he tried to adjust him. Potter laughed. "That tickles."

"Let me move you." Draco pursed his lips and returned his hands to the lumbar region of Potter's back. Carefully, he pressed forward on Potter's spine and bent him over at the waist, then gently prodded along Potter's back through his robes.

Potter hissed and nodded, grabbing on to Draco's arm as he tottered, and spreading his legs to balance himself. "Yeah, it's there now. It was better when I was standing, though. Can we do that again?"

Draco helped Potter to stand straight and adjusted his posture. "Better or worse?"

Potter rocked his head back and forth on his shoulders. "Better, although I've still got the sensation some."

Draco hummed. "One more test. Press your back against the wall and staying there, keeping your back straight, lean to one side."

Potter looked at him blankly, so Draco huffed and demonstrated, without leaning against the wall. Arms to his side and legs together, he leaned, his right arm sliding down his leg, his long fingers, stretching down past his knee as he kept his head aligned straight with his neck and spine. Gradually, he straightened then bent to the opposite side, stretching out his left arm this time.

Potter grinned at him. "Flexible one, aren't you?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco muttered. "One tries."

Slowly, Draco straightened and nodded at Potter. "Use the wall for support. I don't expect the same range of motion as I suspect I know what the problem is, but I need a gauge of which side is more affected."

Potter did as bid. "I can tell you it's the right side. I had the same problem after I woke and while I was doing my regular stretches for the day." He leaned to the right side and just as his fingertips passed mid thigh, he winced. 

"Stop. Lean the opposite direction."

Potter returned to standing then leaned, almost as far as Draco had, when he bent to the left. 

Humming, Draco turned from Potter and reached into a cupboard, drawing out a couple of sheets and towels, then set them on the table's end. "I believe you have somehow irritated the nerves along the spine, which is what's producing the pain, or sciatica. I can't find a cause on the scans, although considering your history, it could be residual damage from an old muscle injury or even a curse, and that doesn't show, I'm afraid. But, it was whatever you did yesterday aggravated it to this level, and so we'll just start there."

He looked up to see Potter grimace in understanding. "I'm going to try a few things and we'll see what works best so as to allow you to continue to play."

Draco flicked one sheet out over the exam table then used the towels as a makeshift sort of pillow at the top of the table. He set the other towels and sheet to the side. "First thing is to warm up your muscles with area specific stretches. Take off your shoes. Lie down on the table, on your back, knees raised and bent, unless that is uncomfortable."

Potter kicked off a pair of ugly trainers, hopped onto the table then swung his legs up, easing himself down and looking up at Draco. "Didn't have a problem with it slipping into bed last night."

Draco hummed, raised both hands and showed them to Harry then grasped his hips. "What I want you to do is to tilt your pelvis, forward first, then back and lie flat again. Allow me to move your body." He manipulated Harry's hips, forcing his back to press down against the table and raising his hips as he demonstrated the stretch. 

Draco relaxed his hold on Potter's body, easing his pelvis down flat on the table. "Hold the first stretch, then the second position, for five seconds each and then let me know if there is any pain involved." 

Potter breathed through the motions, moving his hips back then forward. "No pain, but it feels a bit awkward rolling about on the table."

Draco nodded. "Try it on your own five times, if you please."

He watched Harry for the first few movements then moved to the counter. He withdrew out a quill and parchment then tapped his wand on it to record his notes. Potter's spine cracked as he settled on the table, and Draco eyed him. "Any pain now?"

Potter chuckled. "No, just old."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Next, lie on your left side, right leg raised but flat and bent at the knee. He waited until Harry shifted then showed Harry his hands before grasping Harry's ankle and knee, adjusting his body into the right angles. "Lift your leg, keeping your ankle on your knee, then close. Rather like a Fluttery wing."

Potter nodded, as Draco lifted his leg, flexing his joint then returning it to the table. "Not bad."

"No, this side wouldn't be. However, I fear that once you turn on the right side you won't be so lucky. Five times please."

Potter worked through the motions and Draco made his notes, turning to watch as Potter adjusted himself on the table.

"Oh. Oh, yeah, I see. The pressure does something. It's not painful, but tingling." Potter frowned. "I don't like this."

"I imagine not. The point of this exercise is to gently stretch the nerve without overdoing it, or further injury. As this is the side that's compressed, it will be more difficult. Stop if it becomes too painful."

Draco watched as Potter managed to complete the five exercises then immediately rolled onto his back. 

"I don't like that at all."

Draco smirked. "You most likely won't enjoy this either. Knees together and bent, please." He walked around the table and tugged gently on Harry's feet, placing them flat on the table. He placed one hand on each knee then separated Harry's legs, pressing them slowly toward the table. "Easy now. Let me know when this hurts."

Potter grinned at Draco through the gap in his legs. "I'm pretty flexible myself, you know."

"Indeed," Draco drawled, keeping his eyes on Potter's as he carefully forced his legs wider and lower, pivoting the muscles of his pelvis. "This is a deep stretch. Stop me when you feel the first pull."

Potter wriggled his eyebrows and opened his mouth, and Draco was certain that more innuendo was going to come up as Potter continued to allow him to open his hip joints toward the fullest extension. Harry merely grunted, though, his body adjusting to the stretch. Draco took a deep breath, watching Potter and feeling for the tension in his thighs.

"Ah! Okay, there," Potter called out as his knees made the connection with the table and Draco immediately released him. Potter's knees snapped back up and he pressed a hand in between his legs, grasping his groin.

Draco scowled at him, forcing Potter's legs apart once more to run his hands over Potter's thighs, massaging him through his trousers. "This isn't a pissing contest to show off your skills, Potter. You are already injured and I refuse to allow you to make me the cause of further pain."

"You said to let you know when it hurt and I did. I'm used to sitting criss-cross like that because I like the stretch. It's never hurt like that before," Potter snapped then moaned.

Draco's hands slid over Potter's inner leg to the outside and up to his hips. His thumbs rolled over the joints and moved down again, while he waited and watched for the cramp to release. 

"Merlin, where did you learn to do that?"

Draco continued to rub over Potter's thighs and back around Potter's hip, turning the socket with his hands as he eased the cramp. "I believe it was called medical training. Better?"

Potter reached up and adjusted his glasses, and nodded. "Thank you, and I'm sorry for--"

"Being a prat. I expected it. Everyone does it, but you must learn your limits when it comes to the injury. However, I don't want you to overdo, either. Carefully, try that stretch, again, like fluttery wings, on both the right and left sides before attempting the wide stretch." He narrowed his eyes at Potter. "Do not subflex your hip again."

Potter nodded and sedately opened his legs, moving them wide in the stretches then closing them once more. He closed his eyes once finished and sighed. "All right. That really is troublesome now."

Draco nodded and offered Potter a hand up to a seated position. "Good thing for you I can fix that. Disrobe, remove any spells used on your person, and lie on your front. Use the second sheet to cover yourself and keep warm.

Potter's eyes widened. "I have to be completely naked?"

"You may keep on your pants, if you wish. I, however, need to watch the muscles as they contract. See how your skin reacts to anything I might apply to it, and any spells you have active on your person will interfere with what I am trying to do for you." Draco explained. "I am a healer, Potter. I've seen more bodies than I care to admit. Yours is no different than any other and you've never been modest before in the showers. Why the self-effacement now?"

Potter bit his lip and Draco eyed him, wondering again, why now, he was being so missish about disrobing. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that I am a homosexual and we are alone?"

Potter's jaw dropped. "N-no! Until you just said something I didn't know."

Draco sniffed. "I had thought it common knowledge especially with the gossip in the locker room as well as the _Prophet_ 's sensationalizing of my disinheritance."

Potter looked away from him and Draco steeled himself. "I can arrange for one of my associates to attend to you."

Potter shook his head. "No, it's fine. I just need a minute."

Draco nodded. "I can still have an associate join us if it will ease your discomfort."

Potter turned to him. "I trust you with this, as well as for you not to do anything untoward. I don't think you'd jeopardize yourself like that."

Draco watched him a moment longer then inclined his head. "I'll return in a few minutes."

Exiting the room, Draco leaned back against the wall of the exam room and closed his eyes. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. Only once before had he a patient object to his sexuality, but it was a fear he lived with constantly. Standards in the wizarding world being what they were, it mattered little, but with the influx of more and more Muggleborns into the culture some prejudices had transversed. It had been odd being on the receiving end of such censure.

Though the war had opened the pathways to humility, those new Muggle ideals had helped cement it. Still, one didn't transcend a lifetime of teaching in just a few years. He had his standards and ideals on some things, probably always would, but he had come to accept, if not appreciate, the changes.

It had come in handy when his Father had decided that no heir was better than one that wouldn't even attempt to carry on the line. With a little finagling on his mother's part, Draco had been able to train out of the country and specialize in more than just healing. She'd kept in touch with him despite Lucius' stand on his son. And Draco was fine with that.

A touch on his arm had Draco looking up. Brenda Fawley, his head matron, eyed him. "Everything all right, Healer Malfoy?"

Draco chortled. "I do believe that Mr Potter is going to be one of our most difficult clients."

Brenda's mouth quirked. "It's always the famous ones, eh?"

"I concur."

"Do I need to assist?"

Draco shook his head. "No. He's nervous enough, though I don't know why. Most of the bloody team walks about in a near constant state of half-dress and in mixed company, no less."

Brenda's eyes widened then she grinned. "Are you certain you don't need an assistant at the Tutshill compound?"

Draco licked his lips and smirked at her. Brenda had to be, at least, approaching her seventies, although it was still middle age for a wizard. He'd never mention her age, aloud, though. "You are too much witch for them, Brenda."

Color tinted her cheeks and she nodded at him. "Flatterer. I'll leave you be then, except to remind you that your mother is due to arrive this afternoon, and that the potions representative will be waiting in your office after Mr Potter's appointment has concluded."

Draco groaned. "It never ends, does it?"

"Afraid not, but would you take it any differently?"

"Not one instant." Draco waved her away and turned back to the door, knocking on it sharply before cracking open the door. "Are you ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be," Potter muttered.

Draco laughed. "I can guarantee that this won't be as unpleasant as the last items were, and I shall attempt to make it more enjoyable." He walked into the room, eyed Potter on the table, and shook his head at the sight of Potter having the sheet that covered him from the nape of his neck to the ankle. He moved to the counter and turned on the water in the sink, washing and warming his hands under the flow of water while he considered Potter's sudden bout of modesty.

One never knew really how exposure of self would come across, and it was normal to be extra sensitive when around medical professionals. Draco had never thought Potter would be one of those sorts of people, especially given his ease with the casual nudity in the locker room. Most of his clients covered just their middle as he kept the atmosphere at a bit above the normal room temperature. However, some people were cold-natured no matter the climate. 

"Would you appreciate a Warming Charm?" Draco turned to face Potter, drying his hands on a towel as he pondered the right type of oil to use.

Potter rocked his head on his arms and turned his face to look at Draco. "No, I'm good. Will you tell me what you are going to do?"

Draco nodded and approached the table, handing him two rolled towels. "Under your neck and at mid chest level, please. It has been proven that deep tissue massage and the releasing of 'trigger points' in the muscles can facilitate healing. I'm going to work over your calves, thighs, buttocks and lower back, in the hopes that you are receptive to this particular treatment."

Harry nodded as he adjusted on the table and Draco placed the last towel at Potter's feet, levelling out his spine. "And if not?"

"There is, of course, other exercises which I will be adding to your regime as well as different therapy methods. Treatments such as heat or cold immersion, magical stimulation and water therapy to name a few." Draco frowned. "If this is truly uncomfortable for you, I can bypass the massage therapy completely and attempt something else entirely.

Harry sighed. "No potions?"

"No. A potions regime chemically alters your body and the Quidditch Association grounds anyone on such therapy until the body has processed all the potions. While natural, I prefer to take other methods before resorting to potions."

Potter nodded. "Good. I don't like taking them if I don't have to."

Draco smirked. "No one does."

"All right, we'll try this then. I've never had this sort of thing."

Draco touched Potter's foot. "One leg at a time, and I'll make certain the cover is kept over you until I absolutely have to remove it."

Potter nodded again. "Do your worst."

Snorting, Draco summoned a pot of oil of his own making; a massage cream of grapeseed oil that had been whipped up into a cream. Best start out with the simplest and purest just in case. "No allergies, correct." He tapped the little jar with his wand, warming the cream.

"Haven't discovered one yet."

Draco uncovered Harry's right leg, looking to see if the cramp or his massage yesterday had developed any discolouration. He also checked Potter's skin for any new cuts or open sores before starting. Satisfied that Potter's skin was unbroken, he scooped up some of the cream and began to emulsify it in his palms. "I'm going to touch you now, starting with your foot then I will move up your leg."

"I'm ready for you," Potter said, his voice slightly muffled in his arms.

Draco said nothing as he grabbed Potter's foot and stroked the warmed cream onto the bottom of his foot. Despite his warning, Potter jumped and Draco made a soothing noise as he bent Potter's leg at the knee and lifted his foot. Rubbed.

"Oh, Gods," Potter groaned as Draco spread on more of the cream, then gripped his ankle and rotated it, loosening the joint. He rocked Potter's foot back and forth then dug his fingers into the ball of Potter's foot. Potter moaned.

"That isn't a pain sound I hear, is it?"

"No! I've… um.. never felt anything like that before. Oh, Merlin!"

"Good? Bad?"

"Good, oh, so good." Potter's voice broke as Draco worked his way down past his ankle to his calf, resting Potter's foot on his shoulder as he moved closer to the table. He stroked the muscle in long, slow glides with his thumbs. Wrapping both hands around the girth of Potter's calf, Draco squeezed and drew his hands down to Potter's knee. He twisted his hands along Potter's skin and tugged his hands back up to his ankle.

Potter moaned again but Draco ignored him, well into his concentration as he crooked one finger and Summoned more grapeseed cream to Potter's leg. The cream seeped between his fingers, bunching the dark strands of hair on Potter's leg. It was then that Draco noticed a mark, so thin and dark, that he wasn't surprised he'd dismissed it as hair during his initial examination. He rubbed his thumb over it but felt nothing more than skin.

Raising Potter's leg, he eyed the line, thinking that a blood vessel might have widened creating a spider vein, but this was something entirely different. He realized that the line wasn't a line at all but a twisting, turning braid of them. A tiny representation of letters appeared further down the length of the mark and Draco squinted to make them out. He gasped as the small marks spelled out a recognized name and date in elegant scrolled calligraphy: _James Potter 1981_.

Still running his hands along Harry's calf, Draco followed the line as it thinned out once more even as it wound up past Potter's knee. He laid Potter's foot back on the table and uncovered his thigh, wondering, and yet, almost knowing what the next name would be.

A break appeared in the line and a second thread joined the first, twining and twisting, building a stronger and thicker line. _Lily Evans Potter 1981_. Swallowing hard, Draco looked up at Potter as he traced her name.

Potter's body stiffened. "Is there a problem?"

"No," Draco breathed out the word, his throat closing as he tried to say more. He coughed, clearing the obstruction and bent to examine Potter's thigh closer. The line branched off as if it were a ravelling bit of yarn, and Draco sucked in a breath as he realized the lines weren't lines at all but roots.

The work was exquisite, detailed, despite being nothing more than scripts and weaving lines. However, Draco understood the reasoning behind such markings, and that sentiment transmuted into something more than just arousal at the ritual of pain and marking. Of remembrance and tribute, to the beginning and the lost. 

"How far?"

"All the way."

"What?" Draco glanced up at Potter.

"It goes all the way up to my hairline."

Draco swallowed. How long had that much work taken? How much more pain had Potter endured to permanently mark his parents' love and sacrifice on his skin? "May I… May I uncover it all? Please?"

Potter was silent for a long moment and Draco breathed as soft and shallow as possible waiting for his answer. After another minute of no response, Draco bowed his head, disappointed but understanding as well. He knew some marks were meant to brand and yet, personal and private. Not truly meant to be shared. "I… I'm sorry. That was unprofessional of me. Let me call my--"

"Yes."

"Beg pardon?" Draco jerked his head up to look at Potter again.

"You can look," Potter said and rolled to his side. He tugged the sheet to cover his prick and exposed more of his hip and arse.

Draco stared at the expanse of flesh Potter had uncovered and clenched his hands, fighting off the urge to reach out and touch the inked skin. He would soon enough, regardless, but he took this moment of time to control his desire and just looked his fill of the turning, thickening braid that wound up Potter's leg.

Leaning in, Draco noticed that the roots weren't black but a brown so deep and perfectly shadowed it appeared as such. At the apex of Potter's thigh, where leg met his hip, the line coalesced again and another name and date appeared in the tangle of roots. _Sirius Black 1996_.

The roots spread out again but Draco continued to follow the line as it swirled over Potter's hip. This time the words, _Prongs, Padfoot and Moony_ vanished under the drape of the sheet. Draco tore his eyes away from Potter's skin as Potter rolled onto his stomach.

The white sheet tugged away slowly and revealed more of Potter's arse, the tangled roots arcing across the top of one rounded cheek and crawling up his back. This time Draco couldn't help or hold in the gasp as Potter's lower back was uncovered, the sheet completely discarded now.

The roots thickened and formed a stump, and upon Potter's lower back, colour exploded across his skin. Rich, green grass surrounded the stump bottom and _Dobby 1998_ spiked up in a blade of grass.

Deep blue faded into the green delineating a night time sky. The stump grew into a tree continued to rise up Potter's back, thickening and branching off, and he noticed stars in the evening sky formed constellations. Draco recognized Sirius, the dog star, shining bright gold in Canus Majour with the inked in name of _Snuffles_ just below it. Lupus danced beside Sirius in the lightening sky as it faded to a pale sky blue.

A white stag, Mriga, Draco thought, pranced across the scene just below Potter's shoulder blades, and still the tree grew. Draco sucked in another breath as he recognized the tree was actually the Whomping Willow and right in the center of the branches was one that had been pruned short. In the circles of the tree's age lines on the missing limb was _Cedric Diggory 1995_. An old man's face and beard appeared in the tree's trunk to the left of the shortened limb underscored with _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore 1997_.

The tree blossomed into a riot of colour as leaves from every season shaded over the top of the tree and spread out onto Potter's shoulders. In the leaves, Draco read _Fred Weasley 1998. Nymphadora Tonks 1998._ and _Remus John Lupin 1998_.

Clenching his fists to stop from touching, Draco saw two more names disguised in what looked like a flock of black of birds in flight followed by a streak of a snowy white. _Severus Snape 1998_ and _Hedwig.1997_.

"Why do you cover this up?" Draco breathed, and Potter rolled to look at him. His eyes dropped from Draco's face to his left arm, and Draco instinctively pressed a hand over his sleeve.

"That's different, something corrupted." Taking a deep breath, Draco curled his fingers around his arm and jerked up his sleeve. The Dark Mark, faded to a grayscale, marred Draco's arm from wrist to elbow like a morbid and distorted sleeve tattoo that had not quite been applied properly. 

Potter eyed it dispassionately then nodded at Draco.

"Tattooing in the Muggle world has some negative connotations," Potter began. "It's often seen as a 'rebellion' thing, to brand oneself. Hermione nearly had a heart attack when I showed her the beginning. Thought it morbid to have the names and dates branded into my skin."

Draco reached out toward the flock of black birds then clenched his hand into a fist. "It's a memoriam. A tribute."

Potter nodded and settled on his stomach again. "I thought so. Ron told me that only wizards that were dark would mark up themselves like I had, especially since there are Muggles who have their own version of it. Skulls and snakes are a large draw for tattoo artists."

Draco scoffed. "Hence the title of the crafter; artist. Merlin, some purebloods are so lapsed that they have forgotten their history. It was the Prince of Wales in the mid eighteen hundreds that started the tattoo fad among the aristocracy, and because wizards hid magic in the ranks of the eccentrics, inking or branding of more than just the slaves was adapted into our society. I should know because there are Malfoy ancestors in the Manor that are 'painted'."

Potter made a noise. "Yes, well. It's just easier to leave it covered. I don't want to be stared at any more than usual. I had it done for me."

Finally, Draco could resist no longer and reached out to place his hand on Potter's back. He swept his fingers over the design, tracing the black bird images and the upright branches of the tree. Potter breathed and though he knew better, Draco would have sworn the tree swayed under his fingers.

Draco relished the feel of Potter's warm skin against his own, the sight of the ink and the way his hand spanned across Potter's back, his pale flesh in high contrast of the brilliant colours. He felt Potter shiver as he traced the birds and leaves with his fingers. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, calming himself and toning down his appreciation of the work and body on display. He withdrew his fingers, reluctantly, and tried to pull together the tattered remains of his professionalism.

All the other times Draco had encountered an inked client he'd been able to maintain his stoic regard for the work. But something about Potter's tattoo, Potter's skin, just begged to be touched. Worshiped. He shuddered then sighed as he spoke to Potter once more

"It was the Celts, though, that were the true artists. They often used elaborate designs, swirls and spirals to show the path of a life's journey. What you have here…" Draco trailed off, running his fingers reverently over Potter's back again and eyeing his skin as it moved. "Is a testimony to history, to life. You shouldn't hide it away, Potter. It is a beautiful and extraordinary work of art on an exquisite canvas."

The exam room was silent for several minutes and Draco wondered if he'd disturbed Potter with his words until a soft, "Thank you" came from where Potter had his face buried in his arms.

~*~

Harry slid into the chair at the table with Memory and her partner, Marcus, reaching across the table to shake Marcus' hand.

"Afternoon, Potter. I hear tales you had an incident?" Marcus inquired as he tapped his wand to his menu and another appeared for Harry.

Harry picked up the menu, despite knowing that today was his fish day. He could look though. The Elusive Snitch, a Quidditch-themed cafe on Diagon Alley, catered to the Quidditch clubs by providing a dietary menu featuring the requirements of all the teams. The public was also welcome, and many people booked tables hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite players. Harry and Ginny had often met at the cafe while she was trying out for the Harpies, and after she'd gone abroad, Harry and the others had continued to uphold the lunch time tradition.

Memory shook her head at him. "The chef already knows we're here, Harry, so don't even try to put one over on him. Baked fish, steamed vegs and rice. Brown rice."

Harry scowled at Memory, tapped his selections, and closed the menu before turning to Marcus. "Yeah, your witch decided that playing Beater wasn't rough enough, so she had to wiggle her fingers and put me out on my back."

Marcus nodded and closed his menu. "Saved your ass, I heard." He grinned. "How'd Malfoy treat you?"

Harry drew in a breath and leaned forward. "You ever… er... had one of those massages?"

Marcus nodded and Memory blushed. Harry stared at her, never having seen her look like that before. "That bad?"

Memory shook her head. "It was a couple's treatment. We received instructions on giving and receiving as well as had a demonstration."

"All right. So," Harry grinned. "I have to ask; why the blush?"

Marcus leaned in. "Massage has more than just therapy benefits, if you catch my drift."

Memory's skin turned even darker and Harry's grinned widened. "Oh, yeah? Do tell."

"You are an evil bastard, Potter," Memory glared at him as she slugged Marcus on the shoulder. "It felt really good and not all massage is sexual, either."

Marcus chuckled. "Right, love. We had our session together and yes, it was geared toward the sensual. Two masseurs doing the exact same thing at the same time. And yes, it does feel fantastic, but then again touch should, especially when it's someone who knows the proper way to manipulate your body to get the reactions it does."

Memory waited until the server placed their dishes on the table then leaned in. "Get a stiffy, then, Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Malfoy put me through my paces and I overdid it. He was upset but informed me he could fix it. I rather had a bit of a rough time with him asking me to strip down."

"Because he's queer?"

"No!" Harry stared at her then looked over at Marcus. "You knew?"

Marcus nodded. "Where do you think we took our class? It's not exactly a secret as his family is always in the news, almost more than you, Potter. Anyway, his business, Massage Envy, is one of the top establishments in the industry. Not only is Malfoy a licensed therapist and healer, but he's specialized his staff to cater to anyone. His taking of the job with the Quidditch team is just a minor thing as he offered to every club in Europe, but only Birch would have him."

Harry hummed. "That's interesting to know. I haven't paid much attention to anything after the trials. I want to forget about all that occurred, why wouldn't everyone else?" He picked up his fork and poked at the bright green broccoli. "Besides, be a bit of a shit thing to lambaste him especially since I have friends that are out."

Memory hummed as she scooped her rice with a bite of fish. "Yes, well that's all good until someone is laying hands on an intimate part of your body. Some people have a right problem with such things."

Harry shook his head as he chewed his bite of vegs. "I trust him. Say what you will about what happened between us in the past, I know Malfoy wouldn't compromise what he's done by doing something like that."

"Then what are you worried about? If it works, then it works."

"I wasn't. Worried, that is," Harry said. "I just didn't know if what I was experiencing, besides the pain, was normal."

Memory smirked. "So you did have a reaction?"

"No!" Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "It felt good, amazingly so, as you well know. Malfoy relieved my pain, and I slept fantastic last night. And that hasn't happened in a long time."

Memory studied him then nodded. "Right. So how soon does he think until you'll be back in the air?"

Harry took a large drink of his water then forked up a piece of fish. "He hasn't actually grounded me, but he does want to see me three times a week for the next three weeks. I'm just glad we don't have any games during that time. Practice is going to be hard enough as is."

"Are you in pain then still?" Marcus asked. "What did you do exactly? I had a friend with a pinched nerve that experienced what Memory told me about the incident she witnessed, but she had fallen down some stairs. Bruised her up quite a bit and caused some of the discs in her back to swell over onto a nerve cluster."

"I didn't do anything, that I can recall, though, I was told holding back a sneeze can cause something to happen. Something about how much pressure is released and the force of the air leaving the body. Amazing, that, isn't it?" Harry shook his head. "Regardless, Malfoy says he didn't see any damage to my spine on the scans, but that the pain is there because the nerve is irritated. And as for pain, well, the stretching helps. I just can't put too much pressure on the right side. Woke right up when I rolled over in my sleep and took me a bit to drift off again."

Marcus nodded. "So, it's a completely natural approach. No potions at all? Sheila was on a potions regime. She was on sick leave for several weeks."

"If he'd put Harry on any type of pain potions, Birch would have to ground him, and without a reserve Beater, we can't afford that." Memory stated. "It was why he had us running the cross drills, just in case."

Harry nodded. "If a reserve is called in, I'll lose my spot on the team, and I certainly don't want that. Besides, potions don't agree with me."

Memory poked her fork at him. "Then you'd best do everything Malfoy tells you, Potter. You leave me alone in that locker room, I might just have to send the Harpies after your arse."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You'd give me back to Ginny? Merlin, woman, what have I ever done to you to deserve that?"

Memory waggled her eyebrows at him and Harry shook his head as he stabbed another broccoli spear.

Marcus grinned. "Ginny too much woman for you, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "Too many brothers to outrun."

~*~

"Feeling better?" Malfoy asked as he walked into the room, Harry's chart floating behind him.

Harry nodded. "Quite."

"Thought so, you are walking better than the last few times you have arrived."

Harry eyed him. "You watched me walk up to the building?"

Malfoy paused and leaned back against the counter. "I did. It gives me a sense on how you are feeling and how well the treatment is going without having to ask you."

"You think I'd lie about something that's helped me feel and sleep better?"

Malfoy smiled and Harry drew in a breath. In the past two weeks, he'd seen Malfoy six times, and each session had improved on the pain in both his back and leg. Malfoy had altered his stretches and the treatment, sometimes giving Harry a deep massage and other times laying a charmed hot blanket across his lower back. The heat had felt wonderful and Harry had drifted off to sleep more than once under the soothing weight and warmth. The fact that his body sang once Malfoy's massaging was done and he slept like the dead wasn't missed, either, and it led Harry down a road he'd not considered. If Malfoy's hands were that good in a platonic setting, what could the man do when he really put his mind to it?

"One never knows, do they?"

Harry swallowed, staring at Malfoy as if he'd read Harry's mind. "No, I guess not." 

Malfoy nodded. "Up on the table and begin your stretches, if you please."

Harry quickly ran through the exercises and Malfoy watched him, taking notes on a parchment with his wand. Finally, after squeezing the squishy ball between his knees for the tenth time, Harry released the ball from his legs, grabbed it off the table and tossed it at Malfoy.

Malfoy caught it with ease, his long, strong fingers barely squishing the ball before he dropped it in the box with the other items Harry had used during his therapy.

"Since we have nearly finished your therapy, which follow-up method do you think is working best: the heat or the massage? 

Harry considered this. Many times, Malfoy had asked him whether or not one treatment worked better than the other and the ones Harry felt best were the ones Malfoy stuck with. Harry had no complaints, both worked equally well, and said as much. He was again rewarded with Malfoy's elusive smile and the appearance of it sent a thrill through him.

"How about this then, any more pain in your legs?"

Harry shook his head. "Not unless I roll on to my right side or lie on my back for too long. I was lying on the floor watching telly at Ron and Hermione's this weekend and noticed it when I tried to climb up to stand."

"Any discomfort now?"

"Just a bit in my lower back," Harry answered as he lay on his left side on the table while they talked.

Malfoy's smile dropped away and he hummed as he made a notation on the parchment. "Let's try the massage today then, and since it seems to be focused on your back, we'll start there. Disrobe and I'll return in a few minutes." Malfoy set out the towels and sheets for Harry.

"Still need the spells removed?" Harry asked.

Malfoy paused but didn't turn around. Harry heard his quick gasp then saw his head dip as he nodded. "I'm going to try a different oil this time, so, yes."

"Not a problem," Harry answered and rolled carefully off the table and began to strip off as Malfoy exited the room.

Harry had just covered his body when Malfoy knocked on the door. "Yeah, I'm decent… well, maybe not decent, but covered, at least."

Malfoy snorted. "That's interesting to know. I've been working on a new blend, one that I hope will incorporate the heat therapy without forcing fading on your pigments."

Harry nodded and relaxed on the table. "Appreciate that. Keeping the colors vibrant is good thing. The less I have to go back under the needles the better."

"You aren't the only client I have with work done, so anything that preserves the art is all for the better. I appreciate the time and talent it takes to work on a living canvas."

"I had noticed that you were careful when working on my back," Harry offered and heard the slick sound of Malfoy's hands rubbing together stop. The whisper of the sheet exposing his back seemed extremely loud in the quiet of the room.

"The skin is the first barrier of defense for many things, and with a tattoo you have essentially embedded something that causes a physical change to the skin's pigment. Maintaining that change takes work, not to mention the initial expense involved."

Harry listened to Malfoy talk and relaxed as he felt the slickness being applied to his skin.

"Magically created tattoos are the same?"

Malfoy's hands paused as he stroked the oils on Harry's back, and Harry took a deep breath as he felt extra heat, besides that of Malfoy's own body temperature, filter through his skin. His hands began to move again, the friction forcing even more heat into Harry's muscles, and Harry groaned.

"No," Malfoy began, his voice quiet and low, "Magical tattoos are more like brands. Magic burns the design into the skin."

Harry breathed in deeply as Malfoy's thumbs worked along his spine, kneading the flesh in slow deep movements. The heat from the oil penetrated his skin, and though the first initial passes caused a bit of pain, the muscles eventually relented and relaxed with each stroke of Malfoy's hands. 

_Merlin, that feels amazing_ , Harry thought as Malfoy worked him over. He would never get used to enjoying Malfoy's hands on him. He stiffened and wondered where that thought had come from. 

"Does that hurt?" 

"No, no it doesn't. It feels quite amazing actually." 

Malfoy hummed and Harry relaxed as the blunt tips of Malfoy's thumbs switched to the flat of his palms, which dug into his back and rubbed hard and deep into his body. Harry closed his eyes and let Malfoy's hands work him over, each motion gliding up and down his back and shoulders. Malfoy's oil-slicked fingers graced over the top of his arse, working down over his hip and onto his thigh, and Harry sank into the soothing slides of Malfoy's hands and the warmth on his body. 

"There now. Better?" 

"Huh?" Harry blinked and looked up at the clock. The hands were blurry as were the numbers, but he could see the clocks' arms had changed. Time had passed and he wondered about the missing block of time, and if he had slept the quarter hour they normally talked through. 

Malfoy's chuckles seemed darker, deeper than Harry remembered, although he couldn't ever recall the sound being as pleasing as it was at that moment. He felt languid and loose, not just in body but spirit as well. His skin tingled from both the friction of Malfoy's hands as well as the oil. He sighed, not caring how much time had passed and just enjoyed the moment of pain free bliss. 

"What was in that stuff?" 

"The oil?" 

"Yes," Harry made to roll over then realized he had another sort of problem and laid flat on his stomach once more. He tugged the sheet up higher over his arse from when Malfoy had covered him, clenching the sheet in his fingers and hoping against all hopes that Malfoy didn't notice the tension returning to his body. 

"Capsaicin and a few other natural, heat inducing ingredients. Why? Is there a problem?" 

Malfoy bent close and Harry blinked at the nearness of Malfoy's face. Though he'd placed his glasses with his clothing, Malfoy was so close, he could actually see him without the corrective lenses. Concern laced his features, and Harry studied the slate grey of his eyes as he, too, was assessed. He felt the warm moistness of Malfoy's breath on his cheek and Harry closed his eyes. "Well…no..." He puffed out a sigh. 

"I seem to have a problem… a physical problem." 

"I understand." Malfoy chuckled again and Harry opened one eye to see Malfoy's lips pull back into that smile. His teeth were just slightly crooked, especially the ones on the bottom row and mildly yellowed, probably stained from years of tea. Mint scented laughter ghosted over his cheek as Malfoy pulled away. "Ah, yes, merely a reaction to stimulus. Happens all the time." 

Harry raised his head and looked up at Malfoy squinting to see him better. Malfoy dropped his glasses on his face and Harry adjusted them. "Yeah?" 

"It's to be expected as you relax the body, the mind does so as well therefore spontaneous reactions to the sensations … happen." 

Relieved but also slightly disappointed, Harry nodded. "Well, that's interesting to know." 

"Rest assured you aren't the only one." Malfoy's mouth twitched. "It most often happens to my gay clients." 

Harry's jaw dropped then he scowled as Malfoy's laughter rang out in the room. 

Face heating with embarrassment, Harry scowled at Malfoy, which set off even more laughter. "Bloody minded prat." 

Malfoy calmed, his eyes dancing with mirth as Harry watched him move to the sink and clean his hands. "Yes, well, you can't always be the only tease now, can you?" 

Harry chuckled and eyed Malfoy's profile as he squirted more soap on his hands, washing away the suds and remnants of oil. 

The professional style robes of a sage green were fitted just as closely to his lean, tall frame as the blue ones he wore at the team's compound. His hair was slightly damp from his exertion during the massage and his face was pink as well. Hands, reddened from the friction he'd used on Harry's muscles, twisted the towel and dried the moisture from the long thin fingers. 

The drawcord around Malfoy's waist cinched his robes tight, emphasizing his trim waist, narrow hips and the nicely shaped arse that just broke the straight line of his back before continuing down. Harry realized that most of Malfoy's height was due to his long, long legs and tried not to focus on the slight bulge disrupting the lay of Malfoy's robes when he turned to face Harry. 

Harry jerked his gaze back up to Malfoy's grey eyes, still alive with mischief, as he looked directly at Harry, and the contact felt more intimate than Harry would have imagined. 

Malfoy had grown into his once pointy features, and while he was pleasing to look at, he wasn't overly handsome. He looked like the capable professional he was, and that appealed to Harry. The thought also made his prick harder than before and he tore his gaze away from Malfoy's thin lips, uncomfortable with his inspection of Malfoy. 

Malfoy cleared his throat. "I'll leave you to dress, Potter. You can leave whenever you feel comfortable." 

"Thank you, Healer Malfoy," Harry offered softly, trying to distance himself from the surge of the uncertain emotions. 

Malfoy's voice was extremely professional as he answered. "I am glad you are doing better, Mr. Potter. Won't be long now before you are completely well. Stop by the reception desk and I'll have a parchment of at home instructions for you." 

The door closed on Malfoy's statements and Harry was oddly disappointed at the fact that his time one-on-one with Malfoy was drawing to a close. 

~*~

Draco entered his flat and smiled at Narcissa lounging on the settee before the fire. A book hovered to her right and she licked one finger and flicked it at the book, the page turning in response to the action. She twisted around to look at him.

"Draco, darling, it's about time you returned."

Dutiful as always, Draco bent and pressed a kiss to her powdered cheek. Her pale blue eyes lit in pleasure when he pulled away and she pressed a soft hand to his cheek. "You know I have work. I left my schedule for you in the kitchen."

She tsked, but her lips were curved into a smile. "I can read, Dragon. Still, wouldn't it have been prudent to take the time away as it is not often that I travel, despite your choosing to settle in this… wilderness."

Draco snorted as he settled across her in an armchair. A flick of his wand toward the adjoining room Summoned a bottle of water from his chill cabinet. "Bristol isn't the wilderness, Mother. I'm not that far from the family home. And I believe that your shopping excursions to London are of a greater distance." He drank deeply, ignoring the way her eyes narrowed at him. "Besides, I have patients that need to be attended and I can't drop them on one of your whims."

She sighed and waved away his words. "Fine. Be pedestrian. Tell me about your day."

Draco smirked and leaned back in the chair, knowing she lived for the tales of his celebrity clients he made anonymous by omitting their names. "Fairly usual, although one of the Quidditch players I am treating experienced, shall we say, an interesting reaction to the therapy.

One pale brow arched and a spark of amusement graced her features. "Do tell."

Draco sighed and closed his eyes, sipping from his water again as he decided the proper way to tell her. "A player not accustomed to the finer pleasures of such therapy and its benefits. Bit of nerve irritation was the cause of pain in the initial diagnosis. I am happy to say the person and injury are much improved. Only slight pain remains, but I have a feeling with time this, too, shall end. I've prescribed a routine to be continued at home. Pity the regime is almost over; I shall miss seeing the stunning ink artwork gracing that perfect skin."

Narcissa laughed. "Scandalous, Draco, objectifying a client as such."

The chuckle Draco let loose felt good as he thought about Potter. There was no way to objectify Potter. He was in a class all his own. "What better way to distance myself from a prime specimen."

"Male, Quidditch player and stunning artwork. I can only imagine the reaction considering the subject matter. Go on," Narcissa tittered.

Draco chuckled, and was relieved, once again, to have such an informal relationship with his mother. He could tell her just about anything, and while she had her opinions on the subjects they discussed, she never judged him. Not too much, anyway. It had taken them a while to mend their relationship after the war, but Draco wouldn't trade it now for anything.

"There's not much else to tell. I teased him a bit, since he is a tragic flirt. Nothing doing about it though as he's frightfully straight laced, and not to mention he's a patient."

Narcissa hummed and reached for the tea cup sitting on the occasional table between them. "But you mentioned his therapy was ending. Why not see him after?"

"He's a patient, Mother. I don't want to jeopardize my licensing in doing so, besides I believe I mentioned he was unattainable."

"So ethical, and to be commended, I'm certain. There are ways around such things, darling, and you call yourself a Malfoy and a Slytherin." Narcissa flicked away his concerns. "I think you'll find preferences are fluid when it comes to pleasure." She sipped from her cup then grinned at him. "I had not heard that Potter was on the injured list."

Draco reined in the gasp as Narcissa deduced his patient. He was normally better at keeping confidence of his clients, despite the tales he told her. "I never said it was Potter, Mother," he answered stiffly.

"You needn't have done so, Draco. I know you. You're contracted to one team specifically, despite having a few other famous names as clients. They are recurring patients and you said this one client is temporary. Not to mention, you've always been a bit obsessed with Potter." Narcissa smirked, completely satisfied with her reasoning, and Draco knew she wouldn't drop the subject until she had wrung every detail out of him.

"Now, tell me the specifics, and don't be miserly with the descriptions. Where and what is the aforementioned 'stunning ink'?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that." And he wouldn't. Potter's artwork was too personal, too vivid, to be shared on a whim. Draco actually felt privileged to have been given the opportunity to witness it. Potter had a choice and had revealed the ink to him in-spite of keeping it secret. He could have asked for a different treatment, but hadn't. Potter told Draco that he was trusted, and that meant more to him, he realized, than titillating his mother with gossip.

Narcissa's mouth pulled down into a pout and Draco laughed. "Dash it all, those damned ethics again."

She smiled at him and inclined her head. "Tragic, that, yes. However, I have a feeling you will prevail, darling. You always do."

Draco highly doubted Potter would veer off the straight and narrow to dabble in something illicit with him, interesting and appealing as though it might be. He got a quick flash of him sliding in to Potter. His pale hands grasping at Potter's hips and he thrust deep inside of Potter, the colourful ink on Potter's back slick with sweat. He shook his head again, chasing away the fantasy and mentally willing his arousal down. 

"Not this time, Mother. Though I wouldn't be opposed to something later and well after he is finished as a client of mine."

Narcissa just smirked at him and returned to her book. Draco shoved to his feet, heading for his rooms and a hot shower to distract him away from thoughts of Potter's trim and oiled body glistening under him as they fucked.

~*~

In spite of forging a connection with Memory, and his close relationship with Hermione, there were some things Harry felt uncomfortable discussing with either of the two women. Except it was a woman's perception he needed and as it was such an intimate topic, only a past love would do.

Ginny appeared in the flames, her round, pretty face tinted a sickly green despite the smile on her mouth. "Harry," she said with enthusiasm. "What's wrong? You only call me when you want to discuss something sensitive…" Her grin widened as she continued. "Or if you want to have your arse kicked across the pitch."

Harry chuckled. "Well, considering Ron and I fertilized the grass with you and Charlie the last time we played, I guess I need some advice." Charlie could be just as bloodthirsty as Ginny sometimes, and Harry didn't wonder where they'd inherited it from considering Molly's actions during the war. Weasleys took no prisoners in love, games or war.

"Blood makes the grass grow," Ginny offered with a nod, and Harry laughed again. "How can I help you, love?"

Settling into a more comfortable position in front of his fire, Harry updated her on his injury and his therapy. He told her about Malfoy's reaction to his tattoo and the flirting he was certain was going on, and then finally about his reaction to the last massage.

"Sounds like you need an itch scratched, Harry." Ginny smirked. "You going to have a go with him?"

"Malfoy?" Harry stared at her as if she'd grown another head.

"Mmhmm. He said it was a natural reaction, yes? I mean, outside his teasing you about being gay that is." Ginny shrugged. "And Merlin knows you'd flirt with a rock if it could talk back, love. Maybe he's under the impression that you are, in fact, coming on to him."

"What?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry, don't be dense as I know you aren't. Not that I have any love for Malfoy, but he could be good for a first time. He's trained in ways to make you feel good and as a healer, I don't think he'd hurt you unnecessarily, especially since you've mentioned how he's changed and your trust in him."

Harry snorted. "Just because he can use his hands well doesn't mean I want him anywhere near my prick. Besides… he's my healer. Sounds a bit clinical, I think."

"I noticed you didn't dismiss the fact that Malfoy is male immediately." 

"Well, I…"

"Stow it, Harry. I understand the feeling of finding someone 'inappropriate' attractive." Ginny hummed. "Just because I don't like him doesn't mean you shouldn't try it. It's not a bad thing, you know, him being male, or a healer."

Harry felt his face warm underneath the tingle of the Floo powder's flames. "Yes, I suppose, but don't you think it's a bit… oh, I don't know, wrong to lust after the man, especially in light of his position."

"Again, I notice you didn't discount the 'he' part of this equation." Ginny watched him for a long moment and Harry tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. "Is it wrong? No, I don't think so. As to his position, well, it may be a bit unethical, I suppose, but then again, who hasn't had improper thoughts about a healer or someone else supposedly unsuitable, say like a professor."

Harry grimaced as he thought of his professors and decided that no, he'd never had such thoughts like that, but by the look on Ginny's face, she most certainly had. Suddenly, he wondered who it had been.

"He's a good looking bloke, I suppose, in that masculine sort of way, if you like those pale, pointy types," Harry offered instead of answering her unspoken question.

Ginny giggled. "Right, well, you've both been hyper aware of one another years, it's only natural, I think, to gravitate toward one another like this. Besides the scene Malfoy Sr made, it isn't exactly a taboo thing for same sex couples in our world. You are still thinking Muggle ideas, and really, you and Malfoy would get on like a fire, now that I think about it." She laughed. "Very hot, if I can say so."

Scandalized that she would even contemplate him and Malfoy together, Harry choked on some fire ash when he breathed in. He wondered how a blush translated across the fire and if Ginny would notice. "Merlin, Ginny, don't say such things."

Ginny arched a brow. "Checked him over, have you? Found him appealing in a way you wouldn't have before… and liked the thought of it?"

Harry gaped at her.

"That's what I thought," Ginny said. "Amusing as I think it is to tease you about this, all I am going to say is, don't dismiss him outright. We're adults now. The past is one thing, but if you trust him, don't disrespect him and start the feud all over again."

Harry nodded. "I know, and I do appreciate what he's done for me."

Ginny smiled at him, and unlike in the past when he'd felt a surge of remorse that their relationship had moved past the romance, all he saw was a pretty young woman, who was his friend and friendly rival. "Thanks, Gin."

"Not a problem, Harry, and if you do decide to dabble with him, just remind him that while I don't actively hate him any longer, I won't hesitate to maim him if he hurts you."

Harry laughed and said his goodbyes, running a hand over his face as he sat back out of the fire and thought about their conversation and what he wanted to do.

~*~

Harry walked into the offices of Massage Envy and signed in. He waited for Brenda to set him up in a room then asked if he could speak to Malfoy before their session.

Malfoy knocked and entered the room. "Is there a problem?"

Harry nodded and watched the play of emotions over Malfoy's face before he gathered his control and blanked his face. "And that would be?"

Harry stepped closer to Malfoy. "I need a new healer."

Malfoy arched a brow. "Might I inquire as to the--"

Harry leaned in placing his mouth on Malfoy's. He saw Malfoy's eyes widen before he closed his own and pressed his advantage. Malfoy came alive then, taking over Harry's simple kiss and sliding his tongue along and in between Harry's lips.

Harry gasped and grasped Malfoy's hips when he stepped even closer. Malfoy pushed inside Harry's mouth, licking Harry's teeth and slipping his tongue across Harry's. He moaned and Malfoy swallowed the sound as easily as he continued to kiss Harry.

The need to breathe forced him to draw back, but only as far as to look into Malfoy's eyes. "I can't ask you to continue what I've started if you remain my healer."

"I shall definitely make those arrangements and we will finish what you have started."

Malfoy nodded and leaned against Harry, his fingers running up under Harry's shirt and rubbing across the waistband of his trousers. Malfoy's nails scratched gently on his back, tracing the outline of the tree tattoo. Harry arched into the touches, rubbing up against Malfoy. He felt the firmness of Malfoy's erection through the thin robes and blew out a breath as his eyes fluttered shut again with the sensations. He moaned in disappointment when Malfoy stepped away.

"And the sooner the better," Malfoy breathed, and Harry nodded.

"Tonight?" Harry asked.

Malfoy smirked. "So eager to be under me, again, Potter?"

Harry licked his lips and grinned as Malfoy watched his tongue make the trek across his lips. "I look forward to seeing just what else you can do with those magic hands, Malfoy."

Malfoy smirked. "Indeed." He turned and grabbed the door, shouting for his assistant, as he looked back over his shoulder at Harry. "Brenda! Reschedule Mr Potter's appointment with another therapist. Something important has just come up that I need to handle all on my own."

Harry laughed as he followed Malfoy out of the room.

End

**Author's Note:**

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